


White As Snow, Red As Blood

by Ithildin



Series: Echoes the Sea [48]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Fractured Fairy Tale, Loki Knows He's Fairest of All!, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Other, Prisoner in a Snow Globe, Revisionist Fairy Tale, Self-Sacrifice, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithildin/pseuds/Ithildin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos doesn't believe in fairy tales – or gods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't quite remember what had me interested in researching Snow White, but I did, and came to discover that many cultures have a similar story, and that immediately bred a plot bunny. This is my take on the Snow White folktale with a Loki spin - is he Prince Charming, the Wicked Queen...or both? I'm using what happened in the tag of Thor for my jumping off point - Loki has spent some time spying on various SHIELD members, coming across some useful nuggets of intel to use against our heroes. 
> 
> If you've enjoyed the story, please let me know! I love comments and interacting with my readers. Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> See chapter one notes for more on making this story fit with the Avengers.
> 
> For an overview/cheat sheet of this arc, [please go here.](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ets_avengersarc/profile)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing The Avengers it became clear that the story as it was written was never going to work if I wanted to keep it at least a little bit canonical -- or as much as a crossover A/U can be -- so I decided to do a rewrite. I'm reposting the story, which includes rewritten scenes, and new material entirely. The original version I'm leaving up, and can still be [found here](http://ithildyn.livejournal.com/1254374.html). As much as had to be rewritten, there was a lot I was spot on about, so that's something! As I see it now, this story will end just before where the movie starts. Thanks to idontlikegravy for going over the rewrite to make sure I hadn't missed something that needed removed/rewritten. Also, comments make me giddy, just so you know :)

[ ](http://s164.photobucket.com/albums/u1/Ithidrial/?action=view&current=white-1.png)

**_Methos doesn't believe in fairy tales – or gods._ **

_Once upon a time, on Earth, Immortals were at the top of the food chain. They may not have known what they were, or where they came from, but they were secure in the knowledge that they were unique and without peer. But there came a day that something happened to shatter that belief. For on that day, the Bifröst opened, bringing through it beings that, in Earth's mythic past, had been considered gods. For the Immortals of Midgard, when the gods returned, the universe, and their place in it, changed irrevocably._

**Joint Dark Energy Mission, Western Division, SHIELD Accelerator, somewhere in New Mexico**

Methos rubbed at the crick in his neck, exhaling tiredly. He glanced over at the glowing face of the clock on his desk, not really sure if it was eleven a.m. or p.m.—probably a.m., though he wouldn't bet money on it. He pushed at the pile of books, papers, and scrolls that littered the surface of his worktable. He wasn't getting anywhere fast with his translation, and the aggravation of it all was eating at him. He never thought that digging through dusty old tomes would have come with such a sense of urgency, or that the hunt for some kernel of knowledge could mean the difference between life and death for the inhabitants of Earth. Everything had changed the day aliens went from science fiction to fact; and they were woefully outgunned. Methos was doing whatever he could to even the odds. 

When he'd signed on with SHIELD, it had been as a medical doctor, but it hadn't been long for his talent as an historian—well, as history itself, really—to become the focus of his work for the secret organization. Oh, he still patched people up; god only knew he'd put enough stitches into Barton. It was the universe's way, or maybe it was Fury's, of pulling his chain. But when he wasn't in the medical bay, he was here, surrounded by pages of time, trying to buy more of it. 

Sliding down into the chair, he dimmed the lamp next to him, closing his eyes. Maybe just a quick nap. _And maybe you should go home. How long has it been since you touched her face? Heard her laugh?_ That made him wince, the voice in the back of his head. Home, he hadn't been home in days, hadn't slept in a bed, felt her warmth against his chest in the still dark of the night, hadn't eaten anything that didn't come from a box. God, what he wouldn't do for a real meal. Somewhere along the way, this work of his had become obsession. It had to be so. And she understood that, had stood in this same place seventy years ago, another war, the fate of mankind on the knife's edge. He sighed, letting sleep tug him down into the dark. He would call her later, he promised himself.  


  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


A growing sense of unease pulled him from slumber, a feeling of power, similar to another Immortal's, and yet, not. One smooth motion, and he was up, eyes sweeping the room, looking for the danger, ready to attack if need be. In the gloom, Methos made out the shape of a man sitting at his desk, only illuminated by the glow of computer monitors and the faint light of the lamp on his work table. Reaching out, he flipped the switch on the wall next to him, the overhead lights splashing the office with sharp white light.

Methos quirked a brow. "A guest from so very far away." The man's garb and its decoration made it clear his unexpected visitor was Asgardian. And he had his suspicions as to the identity. "Should I be honoured?" 

His uninvited guest stood with a florid bow. "I am called Loki; but I think you knew that." He laughed. "And yes, greatly honoured." He walked the short distance to the worktable. "I suppose it goes without saying that I've breached what passes for your defenses, with none the wiser to my presence."

"I suppose it does," Methos agreed. He stayed where he was, drawing no weapon.

"It is something of a pleasant change."

"What's that?"

"Let's just say I'm not used to such a…peaceful response to my arrival."

Chuckling, Methos shrugged. "You've offered me no threat." The 'yet' was unspoken. "What brings you to my door, Loki?"

"Curiosity." He flipped over a book, running a finger down the spine. "The Immortals of your planet in general, and of you in particular, ancient one." He pointed the spear-like scepter in his hand, with its glowing blue orb, at Methos.

"I see that my fame precedes me."

Loki just smiled, picking up a scrap of parchment, which had once been part of a larger sheet. "I see you have an interest in the _Múspellsheimr_."

Methos stood straight, no longer feigning disinterest, but Loki appeared not to notice, reading from the ancient text, "And the fire of the gods shall be gathered up and ruin shall follow." He tossed it back on to the table. "Or something along those lines; hard to make out really." Cocking his head, he searched Methos' eyes. "Ahhhh, but you didn't know what it said, did you?" 

"No." The parchments had been found in Norway, in the ruins of a bombed out building, after World War Two, the language not of the Earth. Methos could see no point in lying. 

"If only you had the entire volume, and were able to translate it, of course, I believe you would find the contents quite illuminating."

"Care to give me a hint?"

"Have you ever wondered where your race comes from; what you are? I have. In truth, it has been uppermost in my thoughts for some time." He fell silent for a moment, and then said, "Thor would simply believe you an Elf." Shaking his head, he muttered, "simpleton," under his breath. "But my brother is not one for deep thoughts, as you and I are, Methos."

"If not, then what?" Methos couldn't quite keep the burn of curiosity from his voice. 

"What indeed?" There was a secretive glint in Loki's eyes. But he didn't seem inclined to share any further information. Instead, his attention focused on the framed photograph under the work lamp. He took it, tilting it to get a better look. Methos stepped forward as he fought the urge to snatch it from his hand. "She's lovely, your Charlotte." This time, the smile on his lips was a warning. "You'll find I know a great deal about you and your friends, ancient one. Secrets are my special talent, after all."

Methos forced himself to relax – he was revealing far too much to the God of Mischief. This time, he did take the photograph from Loki's hand, but casually, with no urgency. "She is," he agreed, looking at the photo, Charlotte smiling up at him, grapevines tangled in her black hair. A sense of dread touched his heart and he wished he hadn't stayed from home for so long. "But I may be biased," he said lightly as he set it face down on the table next to him, as if being from Loki's view could somehow protect her.

"A lover's prerogative," Loki replied, circling the table till he stood even with Methos. "I told you I was curious, and that is true. I believe that you could answer so many questions, Methos; for both of us."

Shrugging, Methos leaned casually against the corner of the table. "I'm an open book, Loki."

There was a bark of laughter in response. "You are anything but – which makes you all the more fascinating to me, it is true. But arriving at the answers, that, my friend, is almost as rewarding as the answers themselves."

"Ask away."

Loki waved a hand around the room. "You could rule them, the mortals, they are sheep. And yet, you make yourself subservient to them; such a waste of potential."

"Tried that once—long before you were born, in fact." It didn't hurt to remind the pup, that god or no, Methos had been at this game for eons longer than Loki had lived. "It didn't work out."

"Ah yes, your little band of horsemen, playing at the apocalypse." He leaned in, picking up the parchment he'd read from before, waving it at Methos. "This is as the coming of Ragnarök, and I'm not playing at it, Methos," his voice, almost a hiss, echoed round the confines of the cement walls. 

"I've heard that before too," Methos replied, matching his tone, "more times than I can count. And I'm still here, and I will still be here when all your plots have turned to dust and the universe forgets your name." 

"How easily you pull on Death's cloak," Loki observed. "Can you remove it just as easily? I wonder." 

"What do you want, Loki, really?" Methos was losing patience.

"You asked me what you were, what your people are. I believe the answer to that is the key to a power that will change the course of time itself. You and I," he stood straight, "Methos, we shall discover it together," he promised darkly.

Methos shook his head. "I've chosen my side, Loki. I won't help you."

Loki appeared once more to be all good cheer. "Honestly, it wouldn't be fair to accept your decision quite yet. You see, you do not have all the facts available to make an informed decision." 

"Loki—" 

He waved away Methos' protest. "But soon, ancient one, soon. I am a patient man, after all. I can give you the time you need to consider my offer." The orb in the scepter seemed to throb briefly, and then he was gone. There was no flash, no smoke, nothing at all. Just an empty space where Loki had stood mere seconds before. All that was left was the echo of his voice, "I'll be waiting."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  



	2. Chapter 2

Methos pounded futilely on the door. Damnit, what was wrong with a doorknob and hinges? No, instead, the heavy metal door was seamless, sliding open and shut. Except it wasn't sliding currently, and he was trapped in his own office; a parting gift from Loki. 

After Loki's disappearance, Methos had hit the alarm, an action that was greeted by silence. Then he'd tried his cellphone, his office phone, the computer – all inoperable. Now, he was reduced to banging on the door, not that anyone would hear it on the other side, but it made him feel better. 

"Get back from the door, Doc," he heard Agent Barton's voice coming from the speaker in the ceiling; looked like they'd got the intercom working at least. Methos did as instructed, walking to the side of the room opposite the door. Shortly after, he heard a pop, accompanied by a flash and smoke. When the smoke cleared, he could see the door was now open a crack, light coming in from the hallway beyond. 

"You okay?" Clint Barton called out.

"Fine, just get me out of here!"

"Working on it, Doc."

The sound of metal against metal tore through the room, as the SHIELD personnel on the other side used a crowbar to open the door enough for them to get in. 

"Loki was here," Methos told Barton as he entered. 

"Loki? Are you sure?" At Methos' look, he shrugged. "Sorry, it just wasn't what I was expecting to hear. We picked up some odd energy fluctuations, and when you were the only one not to check in, we headed down here."

"Everything went dark after he left," Methos explained. "I was afraid I was going to be stuck here all night."

"Nah, we would have missed your sunny personality in the canteen at dinner," Barton said with a grin. 

Methos laughed, reaching into his pocket as he felt the vibration of his cell powering back up.

"What did he want?"

"I'm not sure. I have the feeling he hasn't played all his cards yet, and that concerns me," Methos said as he hit the speed dial for home, wanting to reassure himself that all was well. "Come on, Charlotte, pick up, please." Just as he thought it would go to voicemail, it answered, but the voice on the other end made his blood run cold. _I'm terribly sorry, but Charlotte can't come to the phone right now; she has company._  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Charlotte hummed to herself as she worked in the rose garden, deadheading the spent blossoms in preparation for winter. Some of the plants were ones she had originally planted a hundred and fifty years ago, and some were new, planted by her and Jane Foster this last spring. 

It had been odd, coming back to New Mexico after so many years, restoring the old ranch house that held so many memories. But it had also been comforting, holding those memories close, and making new ones, with friends both old and new. And it had kept her busy in the hours that she was alone here – there'd been many of those lately. When Methos had accepted Nick Fury's offer to join SHIELD, Charlotte had had no idea of what that would really mean. Nick had been right when her old compatriot had told her last Christmas that they were living in a maelstrom, just as they had seventy years ago. Earth stood at a precipice, and no one was safe.

Setting her shears down on the table next to her, her hand paused over a white bud. It was too late in the year now; it would probably never blossom, but it was a reminder of the summer that had just slipped away into autumn. This bush was one of her favourites; the original cutting coming from her father's home in England two centuries before. Now, the old canes were thick and gnarled, but the roses it produced held the vibrant brilliance of spring. 

She stilled, the feeling that she was no longer alone prickling across her skin. Slowly turning, she stepped away from the roses, stopping in front of the small table her gardening tools were on. The man who stood but a few yards from her was very fair, with ice blue eyes, and soft black curls that brushed the length of his jaw; a mixture of beauty and danger. He was dressed like a character from a fantasy novel, his armour and clothing bearing ornamentation that seemed Norse in origin.

Neither of them had said a word, each contemplating the other. Then he smiled, but it did nothing to comfort her. "Can I help you?" she finally asked. He was not Immortal, but whatever he was, he was not human. 

He took a few steps forward, the smile widening. "I am certain you can." A few more steps. "In truth, I cannot go on without you." 

Charlotte stood her ground as he closed the space between them, now far too close. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"I am Loki, and soon, we will know each other very well." The threat coiled around the promise like a snake waiting to strike. 

Loki? How could he be here? Jane Foster had told her the bridge between their two worlds was gone. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, not yet. But allow me to explain. I need something from your lover, and you are going to help me get it."

"I won't help you." She shook her head. It was almost funny – Methos and Nick had always thought her friendship with Tony Stark would be what brought danger to her life, but it appeared that once again, it was the oldest Immortal who put her in harm's way. 

Loki laughed. "That's what Methos said."

"Is he all right?" she demanded, fear curling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't heard from Methos in days. Had something happened? Jane had told her how Loki had tried to kill his brother, and that he had destroyed an entire town before Thor had stopped him.

"For now," he said softly at her ear. 

She pressed back against the table, instinctively reaching behind for the shears she knew were there, her fight or flight instinct choosing fight with no hesitation. Grasping them, she pulled her arm around, thrusting forward. But it was a move that he anticipated, hands grasping her wrist, twisting it around. She used the momentum to get under his guard, the blades coming within inches of his chest before he stopped her. 

"That was not very hospitable, or very wise." His blue eyes burned with an angry fire as she continued to fight him. "I think you require a reminder of just what I am."

She only had begun to register that his skin had turned blue before the searing pain of her arm freezing overwhelmed her, the bones of her wrist snapping in his grip. 

"I am your fate, your god, and very soon, I shall be your king." He snarled the words, looming over her. 

The shears fell from fingers that could no longer grasp them. It was worse than burning, and the pain kept on, traveling up her arm, till she thought her heart would burst as icy tendrils brushed her chest. Only when the black of unconsciousness teased at her did he release her. Collapsing to her knees, she cradled her injured arm, gasping for breath. 

"I think we understand one another now, do we not?" His mood had changed like quicksilver, the rage of just moments before, gone. 

"Go to hell." It was a cliché, but all she had strength for.

Sighing, he reached out a hand, now no longer blue. She glared up at him. "Come now, no need for continued unpleasantness. I am a god, while you…are not. The sooner you accept your place, little Immortal, the happier we both shall be."

"Far be it for you to be unhappy," she spat out. 

"Exactly my point." He once more extended his hand, which this time, she took. "I have no desire to punish you further, as long as you behave." Pulling her to her feet, he took her injured arm in an unexpectedly gentle hold. It was already healing. "So, your kind does not suffer any permanent damage from my touch. Interesting."

Unease crept up her spine at his observation. The thought that these beings from another world could inflict permanent injury to Earth's Immortals had never occurred to her. But it had obviously occurred to Loki. 

Pulling away, she remained defiant; she would not give in to fear. "Just tell me what it is you want!"

"So many things, dear Charlotte; the list is rather extensive. But currently, my curiosity revolves around the Immortals of Midgard. I have a theory, you see, and in order to prove it, I need a cooperative subject."

Drawing her arms around herself protectively, Charlotte shook her head mutely. She'd been experimented on before; an experience that still gave her nightmares seventy years later. 

Loki seemed to sense her distress. "Have no fear, my lady." He reached out, pushing back a strand of her black hair, the ring on his finger glinting in the sun. "I have no intention of recreating the experiments of Herr Schmidt's associates. They lacked finesse, not to mention any truly worthwhile results. Mortal minds are small; you and I know this to be true."

How did he know what had happened? Even Methos didn't know about her experience as a prisoner during World War Two. She wondered just what else Loki knew. "Then what?" She shivered, feeling a cold both mental and physical. 

Loki didn't immediately answer, reaching behind her, picking the lone white rosebud from the bush. "You have been touched by winter, and I blame myself." He twirled the flower in his fingers, the bud blooming before her eyes. A golden glow emanated from the rose in his grasp, flowing around them like the sea, white roses blooming by the hundreds as the wave passed over. She thought it just might be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Turning in place, taking in the sight, the scent almost overwhelming, she pressed her hand to her heart. Despite her uncertainty and fear, she was not unmoved by the power Loki held to make such a thing possible. It was if he held sway over nature herself. "Asgard must be truly beautiful if every day holds the possibility of summer," she said softly. 

He leaned in. "When I rule here, those who have served me will be rewarded. There will be a place for you, little Immortal, when all my plans come to fruition." 

She shook her head sharply. "No! I will not help you." She would not betray her friends, those she loved. God help her. 

He smiled then, brushing the rose he still held across her jaw and down her throat. The cold metal of his ring was sharp, like a shard of ice, as it skimmed against her skin. "But you will, Charlotte. Indeed, you already have."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
"Charlotte," Methos called out, "are you all right?"

She turned at the sound of his voice. "Methos?"

"I'm here." He drew closer. Her normally fair complexion was now as white as snow, and her ice blue eyes were unfocused, the pupils huge and dark. "What did he do to you?" Behind him, he heard the voices of the SHIELD team as they spread out, searching the property for Loki. But Methos knew they would find no trace.

"He wants something from you," she said quietly. "He says I'll help him. I won't, I swear I won't, Methos!"

"He's only playing mind games, Charlotte." All around, rose petals fell like snowflakes, and he wondered at the strangeness of it all. "It's going to be all right, I promise."

Nodding, she looked down at a white rose, stained with red, that she held in her hand. "I'm so cold."

He pulled off his coat, to wrap it around her. Then he stopped, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. It was something that shouldn't be. Reaching out, fingertips hovering at her throat, he watched, almost transfixed, as her blood seeped down from a wound that should have healed, the collar of her blouse already dyed red with it. "Charlotte, you're bleeding." It was such a ridiculous thing to say, and yet, those words were ones he would have never imagined saying to another Immortal.

"His ring; it burned." Stepping back, she pressed her palm against the wound. "Touched by winter," she whispered as her knees gave way beneath her. Sinking down, she fell back, her long black hair stark against the blanket of white petals, the bloodstained rose tumbling from her outstretched hand.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  



	3. Chapter 3

Methos sat hunched in a chair next to their bed, where Charlotte lay, looking as if she'd been carved from marble. Blood red lips were the only colour, vivid against the pallor of her skin. The wound at her throat had finally healed, but she was still comatose, whatever Loki had done to her interfering with the normal healing ability of an Immortal. If he hadn't still been able to feel her Immortal presence around him, he would have thought she was dead. He heard footsteps coming down the hall, but didn't acknowledge whoever it was that had entered.

"No sign of him, Doc," Barton said. 

Methos just nodded, not really hearing what the SHIELD agent was saying. Finally looking up, he said, "It's probably some kind of poison."

"If Loki wanted her dead, she would be. He must have some other plan in mind. "

Methos laughed harshly. "That isn't very reassuring."

He shrugged, having no words of comfort to offer. "I'll be back." 

People swirled around the room after Barton left, but Methos ignored them all. In the end, he'd have no choice but to do what Loki wanted. The question was: would SHIELD let him? That was definitely not a given. A hand on his shoulder pulled Methos from his grim thoughts.

"Doctor Adamson," Natasha Romanov said, trying to get his attention.

"Sorry." He rubbed at his eyes.

She shook her head. "You have things on your mind." She looked down at Charlotte. "The chopper is here to evac her to HQ."

Methos surged up off the chair. "Absolutely not! The last place Charlotte would want to be is in some faceless hospital room."

Romanov glanced at Clint Barton, who had accompanied her. It was clear that they'd come expecting resistance. "It's not like she's being locked up in a cell," Barton said. "C'mon, Doc, there's people there that care about her; about you. She'll be better off in the hospital, where she can be monitored."

"You really think there's anything in your mortal world that can help her?" Methos demanded.

"Do you know for sure there isn't?" Natasha countered.

"She's right. And it's more secure; how do we know Loki won't try something else?"

"And what you're so very carefully not saying is that I don't have a choice when it comes right down to it, do I?" Methos practically snarled the words. 

"No, but the Director wanted you to appreciate the wisdom in taking Ms. Sparrow to headquarters for yourself," Natasha answered unapologetically. "Let's not waste any more time."

Shoulders slumping, Methos just nodded mutely as Agent Romanov signaled a medical team that had been waiting by the door. 

Barton put an arm around Methos' shoulders. "Let's go, Doc."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


They'd taken blood, tissue samples, performed every sort of scan known, had hooked her up to monitors that beeped and chirped, but nothing had changed, nothing was found to give them even the slightest hint of what was wrong, let alone a cure. Barton had been right though; they did care. Charlotte was one of theirs, even if her service had happened long before almost every member of SHIELD had been born, but that connection, it was there, tangible. In the intervening hours since she'd been brought here, people Methos didn't even know had come by to see how he was doing, if there'd been any change in her condition. He'd found it oddly comforting.

"I never thought I'd have to do the bedside vigil again," Nick Fury said quietly next to Methos. The SHIELD director looked through the glass, into the room beyond, and the woman who lay there. 

Looking at him, Methos asked, "Again?"

"1942." He rubbed at his one eye with a fingertip. "There was a scientist in Spain, forced to work for HYDRA. An extraction mission was planned, and orders were to send Charlotte in by herself; she could speak fluent Spanish, blend in, and most importantly, could navigate a small boat along the coastline, getting in and out again unseen."

"What happened?"

"It was a trap. She was captured, tortured, experimented on." His voice was level, constrained, but there was no doubt in Methos' mind that Fury was reliving the anger and the fear of those days. "The officer in charge was an Immortal, one of Schmidt's lieutenants. They used captured Immortals as Guinea pigs in their quest to create a super race."

Methos' hands curled into fists, feeling sick. "She never told me."

Fury snorted. "She wouldn't, would she?" He took a deep breath. "After we got her out, it seemed as if she kept moving farther into her past. Thought Standish was a child again, and nothing he could say would reassure her that he was safe. By the time we got her back to England, she was catatonic; I sat at her bedside for days."

"I have been in this place more times than I can count; a wife, a child, a lover. But this, this was not a part of the deal." Grimacing, Methos shook his head. "Avoid sharp objects, keep your head on your shoulders and live forever. There was no clause for aliens with delusions of godhood!"

Fury nodded. "There isn't any miracle antidote, you know that."

"Yes."

"We need a plan, Doctor Adamson, a plan for when that bastard comes calling again – and he will be back. What are you going to do?"

"Whatever he wants," Methos said baldly. There was no point in trying to deceive Fury into thinking he wouldn't do whatever Loki wanted to save Charlotte. "Is there going to be a problem with that?"

Laughing, Fury waved a hand at Methos. "That's what I like about you, Doctor, you don't screw around." He cocked an eyebrow. "You think I'm going to try and stop you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind." Though said evenly, there was an edge to his words. 

"That woman in there, she was part of my team, and I failed her." Stabbing a finger at the glass, he looked grim. "I didn't like the idea of her going in alone, but I didn't fight hard enough to stop it. She paid for that; but not again, Mathew, not this time. This time, it's going to be different."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
It was icy cold, the snow falling so thickly, she could barely see the towering trees that surrounded her. They were not much more than dark shadows, leaning over her like sentinels, imprisoning her in the gloom. Shivering, she pulled the fur lined cloak around herself more tightly, drawing her face deeper into the hood. Turning in place, trying to decide which way to walk, she saw nothing that gave her even an inkling. All was snow and shadows, her only companion the wind as it swirled snowflakes around her. Could that be her answer then? Yes, she would let the wind guide her, following it to its destination. Perhaps it might be hers as well.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  



	4. Chapter 4

Standing in a high place, Methos took a deep breath, looking up at the night sky, the sound of the ocean as it buffeted the hull of the hellicarrier rising up to meet the wail of the wind. When had his life gotten so damned complicated? He'd never planned this, any of it. Fury had lured him in with promises of knowledge, and that had always been his weakness. Being the selected target of a demi-god was not something he could have ever anticipated. And yet, despite the situation he found himself in, he was forced to admit that there was also a sense of exhilaration that came along with an experience that was totally unique. 

Closing his eyes, he set his mind free, centering himself, before he must once more be in the world. But when he opened them, the floor was gone—Earth was gone. A dim landscape, with nothing but ice as far as the eye could see. From behind him, Loki said, "Welcome to my birthright." The acid bitterness in those words was as black as the sky above them. 

Methos turned towards his nemesis. Loki was sitting on a throne carved of ice, the ever present scepter in his hand. Drawing his coat tighter around himself, Methos walked towards him. "What did you do to her?" 

"I think the question should be: what _will_ I do to her?" His smile was all teeth. "I think you would do whatever I bid to keep her safe from me. Would you not?"

Exhaling, Methos stretched out his fingers, aching to feel the hilt of his sword in his hand. "You know I would."

Loki looked smug. "I am pleased we understand one another. As to what I did to your lover; that was quite diverting. I delved deep into the arts of the Frost Giants, rediscovering that which had been long lost. A poison, _Svefn af Snærr_ , the Snow Sleep. It quite exceeded my expectations." 

"So I do what you want, you give me the antidote." 

Laughing softly, he replied, "In a manner of speaking."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


Methos practically ran to Fury's office after Loki had released him from wherever they had been. Pushing open the door, he found Phil Coulson with the SHIELD director. "I've just spoken to Loki."

Coulson and Fury exchanged a look. "Sit down, Doctor," Fury told him.

Nodding, he sank into a black leather chair, and began to speak, telling them what had happened. 

"So there is no antidote," Fury stated. 

Methos shook his head. "The cure, like the poison, is tied to the essence of its maker, or so Loki told me."

"Assuming Loki will come through with a cure," Coulson said sourly

Methos shook his head. "No, I refuse to believe that! He has to if he wants me to cooperate. I need to know that Charlotte will be well when all this is over before I will do anything he wants."

"And you think he'll keep his word?" Fury asked.

"I think so, as long as I avoid any loopholes." Methos ran his hand through his hair wearily. "He'll be contacting me soon." 

"He's just been waiting until you knew there were no options left," Coulson said

Nodding, Methos got out of the chair, standing up. "Well then, gentlemen, it's time I made myself available."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
After Methos left, Coulson looked at his boss. "So that's the plan? He wanders the streets waiting for Loki to make contact?

"More or less." A thoughtful expression settled over his face. "I sure as hell would like to know just what Loki finds so fascinating about Adamson. If all he wanted was an Immortal to play with, he could have snatched a random one with none the wiser. But he goes to all this trouble to get the good doctor. Why?"

"It might not just be about Adamson," Coulson offered. 

"What do you mean?" Fury asked.

"He knows a lot about us, sir. Knows a lot about you. Maybe Adamson is just the door prize, and targeting Miss Sparrow is aimed at you. Playing on your past together in the SSR – she was a part of your team, someone you have a bond with, emotional ties to. It would keep you off balance, distracted." Fury raised an eyebrow at that. Coulson cleared his throat. "Sir." 

"Killing two birds with one stone? It's definitely convoluted enough for the bastard." Then he shook his head. "Get Barton in here."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
"Not good news then," Duncan MacLeod said as Methos entered Charlotte's room.

"No." He looked at Charlotte, sighing tiredly. Then he turned to Duncan. "I'm glad you're here," he said, squeezing Duncan's shoulder gratefully. He'd got the clearance for the Highlander to be here not long after Charlotte had been brought in. 

"I wouldn't be anywhere else, you know that." Duncan reached up, putting his hand over Methos' reassuringly. 

"Yeah, I do." Then he asked, "Where's Ezra?" The younger Immortal had flown in from China as soon as he'd been informed of what had happened, and hadn't left her side since he'd arrived. Ezra hadn't needed Methos to gain access; he, along with Charlotte, and his late wife, Molly Tanner, had served with Nick Fury during World War Two. When it been time for the two Immortals to move on, Fury had been sure that they had ironclad new identities. Fury meant it when he said SHIELD looked out for its own. 

"I made him to go get something to eat." Duncan stood up. "He needed a break."

"You're more convincing than I am, apparently." 

Duncan chuckled. "I can't take all the credit; Agent Romanov helped to persuade him. She's one very determined woman, and a little scary too."

Methos cracked a smile at that, before turning serious once more. "I have to go, Mac, play out this hand so I can get an antidote for the poison. I need you to take care of Charlotte for me if anything happens…I don't come back… I need to know you'll watch out for her." He was assuming nothing when it came to Loki. What worried him was that the God of Mischief reminded him all too much of himself when he's been not much younger—full of anger at the universe, raging at the cosmos, demanding retribution for injuries both imagined and very real. 

"I will." He nodded sharply. "You don't need to worry; I'll watch over her till you come back." There was no doubt in his voice that his friend would return, and it gave Methos a sense of certainty he hadn't felt since Charlotte had fallen at his feet on a bed of rose petals. 

Walking to the bed, Methos leaned down, kissing Charlotte's cold lips. "I will do whatever it takes to bring you back, dearest Charlotte. If you can hear me, wherever it might be that your spirit wanders, remember our love, and know that I always do."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
The wind moaned, as if in grief, stripping all hope from any that might hear its desperate wail. The cloaked woman, pressing on through the drifting snow, was the only being in the forest to hear; neither fox nor squirrel stirred under the snow laden boughs. Wrapping her arms around herself, trying to ward off the sense of doom that the wind brought with it, she halted. She had walked and walked, though for how long, she did not know. The sky neither lightened nor darkened; all was perpetual gloom. Excruciating cold had settled deep into her bones, her blood, leeching away the will to carry on. Hopeless. Closing her eyes, she sank down into the snow, her grey cloak billowing around her like a storm cloud as it settled around her. She would let the wind carry the news of her death to whomever there might be that had known her. As she fell into unconsciousness, words of comfort drifted past her, and her last thought was that someone had loved her, once upon a time.  


~~~***~~~

  
Arms lifted her, a beautiful voice whispering reassurance at her ear. She tried to open her eyes, but the voice said no, told her to sleep, that he would take care of her now that he had found her again. It was if she had no will of her own, and obeying the soft command, she fell down into a dreamless sleep.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  



	5. Chapter 5

Methos leaned against the hood of his SUV, scanning the deserted old warehouse. Streaks of sunlight through broken windows were the only light that made it into the gloomy brick building. He could hear the scrapes and rustlings of rodents up in the beams, but it seemed that they were his only company.

It had taken nearly twelve hours for Loki to contact him, twelve unending hours that had left him as taut as a bow with anger and frustration. He'd gone back to the hellicarrier to report in and to check on Charlotte, and there it was, in her hand, a rolled parchment. It was as if it had appeared by magic – no person or security camera seeing where it had come from, or who had put it there. It contained his instructions – in Asgardian no less – directing him to this place. After he'd read it, the parchment had caught flame, dramatically burning up in a green flash; Loki's idea of humour, apparently. Now, Methos waited. He had no plan, not really. Just to get through whatever lay ahead, however he could. 

Just as he'd been _not there_ in Methos' office, Loki appeared before him. This time, he was dressed in Earth garb; a black dress shirt and emerald green tie peeking from under the buttoned forest green wool overcoat. Methos straightened, but didn't offer any other sign of surprise at the suddenness of the arrival. "Nice of you to join me," he said dryly.

"Things to do, people to see," Loki replied cheerfully. "But I promise that you shall have my undivided attention for the foreseeable future."

"Thrilled to hear it." He waved a hand impatiently. "Shall we get on with it?"

"Just like that? You aren't going to demand to know what my plans for you are, or make any tedious threats to my person?" Loki seemed disappointed. 

"Surprise me." Then he took a step forward. "As for threats, I think you already know how I'll react should you renege on any part of our agreement." The words held the promise of a retribution that would be both ruthless and unforgiving.

"Do you honestly believe you could be of any threat to me?" Loki dismissed Methos' warning with a bark of laughter.

"Do you really want to find out?" he asked softly, leaning in. _No._ His eyes widened as he felt it. _This could not be happening._ It took only a few seconds more for Loki to.

"You dare?" Loki snarled. Before Methos could react, the scepter in Loki's hand glowed with a blue light and a crackle like compressed lightening, the bolt it ejected hitting Methos square in the chest, throwing him to the ground, paralyzed by pain and the shock to his central nervous system. "We had an agreement, you and I, but now, oh but now, your lady will sleep 'til the last days of this pathetic realm!"

"Didn't know," Methos managed to choke out. Groaning, he tried to get his limbs to work. "I swear to you." This was a nightmare. He didn't know who the Immortal was for certain, but he'd bet money it was Standish. Stupid, stupid boy! 

"Then you won't mind if they die, will you?" Loki raised the rod, the crackle now much more powerful than before, pointing it at Methos' SUV. 

"No!" Methos pulled together every ounce of will to overcome the paralysis, throwing himself against Loki's legs. It was enough to throw him off balance, the bolt of energy grazing the front bumper. Not enough to destroy the vehicle as Loki planned, but enough to hurl it twenty feet into the air. 

The sound as it crashed to the ground made Methos' ears ring. It bounced, the rear door flying open, two figures tumbling out. Methos stumbled towards them, making it there a few moments behind Loki as they scrambled to their feet. Not Standish, but the last person he had expected. "MacLeod! What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. "Barton—" he nodded towards the SHIELD agent "—I get, but not you."

Duncan shook his head. "Couldn't let you do this alone."

"Yes, you could! You promised me you'd take care of her!" 

"Charlotte has Ezra, Tanner, Stark – and she'd kick my ass if she ever found out I didn't have your back, and you know it!"

"Man has a point," Barton opined, a little out of breath, but not looking the least bit worried that Loki would kill him as soon as look at him. 

"And this was your oh so brilliant plan?" Methos waved at the wreck of his SUV behind them. "Hide in the trunk with a dead Immortal?" 

Barton and Mac exchanged an embarrassed glance. "It sounded good at the time," Barton protested.

"The compound that killed me wore off a little faster than we anticipated," Mac admitted ruefully. 

"Oh, that's just perfect, isn't it?" Methos snapped, before turning to Loki. "Please don't punish Charlotte over this; I've done my best to keep my part of the deal. Is it my fault I have friends without an ounce of sense?" He pointed an accusing finger at Barton and Mac.

"I find that I believe you. And you misjudge me, ancient one; my intention has only ever been to protect your dear lady." Loki looked pleased with himself. "She seemed so distressed at the prospect of once more being an experimental subject, that I, as a gentleman, could do nothing less than shield her from this very necessary unpleasantness."

Methos wanted to rip the smug expression off Loki's face, but restrained the impulse with an iron will. "I ask you to extend your consideration to my friends. Agent Barton is susceptible to peer pressure, and MacLeod just can't help himself; he was brought up that way."

Loki looked at the Highlander sourly. "He reminds me of Thor – I don't think I like him." Then he turned his attention to Agent Barton. "This one, I suppose, was following orders. And being human, one can't expect much."

Barton rolled his eyes, and Mac looked as if he'd like to teach Loki a few manners, but both men held their peace. Methos nodded. "They mean well."

Loki considered for a moment. "Very well, I am nothing if not merciful in my dealings with lesser beings. Your Immortal friend may prove useful, and as for the human, you will require a servant whilst in my care."

"Just call me Jeeves," Barton muttered. Next to him, Mac snickered.

Loki looked at him quizzically. "As you wish."

Methos couldn't help himself, laughing, as the ridiculousness of the situation, coupled with the trauma of the last days, merged. If he got out of this alive, he'd never claim his life was boring ever again.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
The warmth of fire pushed away the cold, the scent of smoke, mingling with that of damp fur tickled at her nose, and the pop and crackle of burning wood stirred fragmented memories. But it was the gentle hand brushing back her hair, the soft words whispered at her ear, which drew her up from that dark well she had thought to be forever trapped. Then his lips brushed hers, the snow and the wailing of the wind that haunted her dreams, falling back at the touch. Eyes opening, her breath caught at the sight of the face that looked down upon her. His gaze held reassurance and warmth, and for the first time she could remember, she felt safe.  


~~~***~~~

  
Reaching up, she touched her cheek, pondering her reflection in the looking glass. There was no familiarity there, nothing that brought any memory to the fore. He stood behind her, his hand coming to rest against hers, his thumb stroking her face. Leaning in, he said, "All will be well. Your memories will return, I swear to you." He put a hand at her waist, coming closer. "I blame myself for this relapse. You were improving, and thinking it safe, I left you alone for a short time. I returned to find you gone." His brilliant blue eyes caught hers in the mirror, and she shivered a little. "My heart froze, realizing you were lost in the blizzard."

Drawing away, she nodded, turning to look out the window at the snow that still fell. The man had explained that some accident had befallen her, leaving her with no memory of her past, or even who she was. He seemed to care for her, and had promised to answer her questions, though not right away, and not all at once. He was worried that too much information too soon would hamper her recovery. "My only memories are of that—" she waved a hand towards the window "—of cold and despair. And there was the wind; my only companion."

"It will not always be so," he promised, standing next to her. 

"I do not even know my own name." 

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "You are called Charlotte. And I am Loki, your husband—" she looked up at him, and his smile seemed to hold a secret "— and your King."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Sighing, Nick took Charlotte's hand. He had made a point of checking in at least once a day, talking to his old friend, reminiscing about their time together in the SSR, believing that somewhere, wherever she was, she might be able to hear him. He looked up at the beep, the lines on the monitors above Charlotte's hospital bed momentarily spiking, before settling back to the same pattern they'd maintained since she'd been brought in. Nick felt hope rise just as briefly, before crashing back down. Nothing had changed.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Methos and Duncan find themselves in a place from their past they weren't expecting, as Loki weaves his spell - still to reveal his endgame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ninjababe for letting me thrash out this part with her. It went somewhere I totally was not expecting - and neither were Methos and Duncan! And thank you to those that have been reading along. I appreciate each and every comment so much - thank you. It feeds my muse.

The only reality was pain. It felt as if he'd been assaulted by a hundred quickenings—but with none of the calories. Methos fought the urge to curl up in a fetal position, not wanting to give his audience the satisfaction. Rolling onto his side, he opened his eyes, almost expecting to see the shade of Kronos in this very familiar room. If he were here, haunting the place, he must be feeling a great deal of satisfaction at Methos' current predicament. 

After deciding to not kill Barton and MacLeod, Loki had waved the ever present scepter in his hand, this time, a green light blooming up from it, enclosing the four of them like a bubble. Then there had been a gut wrenching shift, the light disappearing, Methos feeling as if he'd fallen ten stories, stopping just before he hit the ground. He blinked; skin prickling, like he'd been too near a lightning strike. Turning around, eyes trying to pierce the shadows, he realized that his companions weren’t here with him. Then Loki stepped out of the gloom; a snap of his hand, torches on the wall flaming to life, the fire pit flaring up violently, sparks reaching to the sky. 

"I hope you like what I've done with the place," Loki said congenially. "I tried to keep it just as you remember, but with a few special touches of my own." He pointed towards a metallic circular platform off to one side that looked as if it had come from the set of _Metropolis_. 

Methos shook his head. It shouldn't be, but it was—the abandoned submarine base that had been the Horsemen's last camp. Loki had unerringly pulled a place from his captive's subconscious that Methos had never wanted to revisit. From the echoes of the past he heard himself say, ' _What is the first rule of great drama? Start small, and build._ '. Loki had learned that lesson well. Then he felt the presence of another Immortal, but it wasn't MacLeod. 

"Allow me to introduce Dr. Vogt," Loki said, as a thin, brown haired man came to stand silently at Loki's side, holding a syringe in his hand. "He will be assisting during our time together here, and I must say, he's quite eager to begin…." 

Now, Methos was stretched out on that platform, recovering from the first round of Loki's experiments. He choked back a groan as he attempted to sit up. From somewhere behind him, Loki said, "Well now, that was surprisingly effective for such a crude serum." He moved into Methos' view. 

"Is there some sort of point to all this?" Methos demanded, voice cracking.

"You will find that there is a point to all that I do, ancient one. But in this case, curiosity. Dr. Vogt was a part of the same program that held your lady love captive. He's the last now, of course. Merely a minor functionary in those days, he has used the passing decades to hone his skills. "

"And what exactly was it that you were curious about?" He coughed, wishing for a drink of water to clear the bitter taste in his mouth.

Loki leaned in, a cold smile on his lips. "I wanted to see if that serum was really as terrible as your Charlotte remembered it to be. After weeks of such torment, no wonder the mere idea of being my captive would bring the terror I saw in her eyes." 

Methos recoiled at Loki's explanation. Cold nausea crawled up his belly into his throat, as the import of his words sunk in. The realization that Charlotte had suffered so, coupled with the memories of this place and who he had been, left him feeling dead inside. _Like Death_ he thought bitterly.

"I truly am a merciful god to spare her, am I not?"

Loki's eyes locked with Methos', and he knew it was not a rhetorical question. "The picture of," Methos agreed softly.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Methos covered his eyes with his hands. This just kept getting better and better. Once more, Loki had transported him, this time to the cage that Kronos had kept Cassandra locked up in. And he had company: MacLeod and Barton. They looked none the worse for wear, though Mac was virtually silent. Not that Barton noticed, Methos was sure. He didn't know the Highlander well enough to know that Duncan's silence was residual disapproval for Methos and what had transpired here more than ten years ago.

"How long has it been?" Methos asked.

"Four hours," Barton replied. "Mac says you've both been here before." 

Methos knew Barton was curious, but also knew the man wouldn't press him for answers he didn't want to give, as long as he was reassured that it wouldn't impact the mission. "It was a long time ago, a lifetime ago. Loki's just playing mind games with me and MacLeod." From the other side of the cage, Mac snorted. 

Barton searched his face, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Then he asked, "What did he do to you?"

"Are you familiar with HYDRA using Immortals as guinea pigs during World War Two?" Mac's head shot up at that, now totally and firmly in the present. 

"Sure – I've studied the reports from those days."

"And Charlotte's unwilling participation?" There was a sharp edge to Methos' query. "Not now, MacLeod." He waved away Duncan's questions.

Barton reached out, clapping him on the shoulder. "Yeah, Doc, I am."

Methos took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "There's a doctor with Loki, an Immortal, who was a part of that project. Not the one that ran the program, I don't think."

Shaking his head, Barton said, "No, that guy Fury killed when they extracted Ms. Sparrow." 

"Loki said he was a 'minor functionary', but—"

"Why would you take his word for it?" Barton finished. 

"Yeah." Methos shifted into a more comfortable position, noting how much he still hurt, and what that meant in regards to the serum and its effect on Immortals. "He has some of the serum used in the project. An object lesson on what the consequences are if I piss him off. But not the point of all this." He waved a hand at the cage and the cavernous space beyond. "I still don't know what it is he wants."

"Would someone please tell me what the hell you're talking about?" Mac demanded, finally having enough of holding his peace. 

Sighing, Methos said, "You may as well explain it to him, Barton. He won't give us a moments rest till he knows."

"You want me to tell him?" 

"You know more about it than I do," Methos pointed out. "That, and I think a more clinical recap would be preferable to my emotionally attached one."

Barton shrugged, launching into an account of the SSR during the war, and Charlotte and Ezra's part in it as members of the then Sergeant Fury's team. "You'd have no way to know, Doc, but it was a real thrill for a lot of us to finally meet former Agents Black and Standish." He laughed, remembering. "Tasha, er, Agent Romanov, was really thrown when she found out the woman she'd been keeping an eye on as part of Stark's circle, when she was undercover at SI, was actually the legendary Agent Black. Even funnier when she found out that Stark's playboy buddy, Ez Sanbourne was in actuality the equally infamous Agent Standish. But don't tell her I told you that," he added hastily.

Methos cracked a smile. "Your secret is safe with me."

Duncan was still digesting Barton's tale. Shaking his head, he asked Methos, "How long have you known?"

"Since yesterday. Or maybe it was the day before."

"Yesterday?" The incredulous expression on Mac's face was priceless. Even Barton laughed.

Shaking his head, "Methos said, "You don't know Charlotte as well as you think you do. In the beginning, it was classified, then, when she could have told me…come on, Mac, you know what it took to get her to tell me about what happened between her and Kronos. She doesn't like to share the bad things, or dwell on them. That's just who she is."

"Comes with the territory," Barton chimed in. "Charlotte and Tasha should form a club." The last was muttered. Then he looked up, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, okay, I have some personal experience when it comes to SHIELD women. They're a breed apart – drive a man crazy and back again." 

Methos' lips curled into a warm smile. "But we wouldn't want them any other way, would we, Barton?"

"You got that right, Doc. Wouldn't trade them for all the world."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
"Where is this place?" she asked Loki. He had told her that her name was Charlotte, but the name did not feel as if were hers, and it troubled her; more so than all other things.

"My hunting lodge in Nastrond – it was ever your favourite of our dwellings." She shook her head slightly. "Do you doubt me, my love?" His tone was even, but the undercurrent of warning was obvious to her.

Looking over her shoulder at him, she replied, "I find it hard to believe I would favour a place that offers naught but perpetual gloom and endless snow." She turned, curtsying slightly. "But if you say it is so, then it must be…my king."

He took a step towards her, tilting her head up with a finger under her chin, studying her. Then he laughed, brushing his lips across her cheek. "Ah, my lady, it is a great relief to me that your misfortune has done nothing to damage your temperament."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Are you mocking me?"

The merriment in his eyes only seemed to increase. "I would never do such a thing!" He placed a hand to his heart. "My word to you."

She sniffed, and with a swish of her floor length dove grey skirt, walked past him to once more look out the window at the never ceasing snow. Behind her, she could hear him laughing softly. "You keep referring to an accident being the cause of my present state. I pray you tell me what befell me. Please,—" she tasted his name, a brush of something that might be a memory teasing at her "—Loki."

Coming to stand beside her, he was no longer laughing. "I have many enemies, Charlotte, and due to that, you suffer your current state." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "An attempt on my life gone awry, with you the victim; I regret it more than I can say." The hand slipped up to lie against her neck. "But those who committed the act suffered greatly before they died. Know that I avenged you, my queen."

She couldn't control the shiver that ran up her spine. "Shall I always be thus?"

"The healers assure me that one day, you will be well. It is my fondest wish that you be restored to me."

"Then it will be so, I swear it." She might not believe she was this Charlotte who Loki told her she was, but she did believe that the truth lay close by, if only she could pierce the veil that kept her past at bay. She would tread carefully, but she would discover the truth—no matter the cost.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
. 


	7. Chapter 7

Loki didn't believe in playing fair. He'd given MacLeod a spear to fight with, but against the magician's power, it was of little use. 

As it began, there was only Loki, armed similarly. But that Loki was soon joined by a dozen doppelgängers, surrounding the Highlander on the metal platform, his weapon useless against them. But his foes had a bite, their spears slashing at the Immortal 'til his shirt was in shreds, drenched in blood. 

Methos stood silently next to Barton, wishing for the hundredth time that Mac had done as he'd promised, and had remained with Charlotte. Barton clenched his fists, and Methos knew that he was having a difficult time restraining his anger. "We'll get through this," he said softly. "He's had worse; so have I."

Barton glanced up at Methos, lips tight. Then he said, "It's like a cat playing with a mouse. If I could just—" 

"But you can't!" Methos interrupted with a fierce whisper. "Loki holds all the cards, holds Charlotte's life in his hands. That is reality; I shouldn't have to remind you."

"Wise words, ancient one," said Loki from behind them. 

The two men whirled, both reaching for weapons they no longer had. The god laughed, striding past them, waving his hand, the doppelgängers disappearing. Duncan had fallen to his knees, spent from the battle, lungs heaving. Loki crouched next to him, holding what appeared to be a polished rectangle of crystal, which glowed with a deep violet light from within. 

"Well fought. Even Thor would have been impressed. Think what you might be if you only embraced what you are." The last was said softly, as if Loki weren't quite sure what exactly that might be. Standing, he motioned for Methos to join them. 

Methos held out a hand, helping Duncan to his feet. "I'm sorry, for all of it," he told his friend quietly.

"Yeah, I know." Duncan shot him a crooked grin. "You had to be a secret agent."

Methos snorted. "Like you haven't always harboured a desire to be James Bond."

"This all very touching." Loki pushed between the Immortals. He pointed to the spear that was still in Duncan's hand. "Kill him."

"Now, wait just a minute," Duncan sputtered.

"You'd prefer that Jeeves take his place?" Loki motioned back at Barton.

"He'll do as you ask," Methos interjected, before Duncan could respond to Loki's threat. Clint Barton was a warrior, and a credit to SHIELD, but he was also very mortal. Keeping his friend alive was paramount to Methos. And Romanov would take his head herself if he didn't.

Loki smirked. "I wasn't asking, Methos, but as long as he complies—" 

Methos curled his hand over the one that Duncan held the spear in. "Just do it." He gave the Highlander what he hoped was a reassuring smile, before stepping back, holding his arms wide.

"Methos, I'm sorry." Duncan raised the spear.

"You and me both."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Charlotte was alone, or so it seemed. Loki had wished her fair dreams at her chamber door the evening before, telling her she must rest, but this morning, he was nowhere to be found. On waking, she had dressed—another grey silk gown, covered with a capelet of soft black fur—beginning a methodical search of all the rooms, mapping the place in her mind. Everywhere she was reminded of winter, be it out the windows that it seemed every room had, or the furnishings and draperies. There was no colour; all was black, white, or grey. Occasionally, there was the gleam of silver, or the reflection of firelight on glass, but it was as if this place were merely an extension of the desolation that lay beyond its walls. No laughter, no joy, no warmth. She did not know how the woman that Loki claimed she was could bear such a barren existence. 

Ebony doors, three times her height, gleamed at the end of the corridor. She had not been here before. Placing her palms against them, she pushed, and despite their massive size, they opened with barely a whisper. The room beyond equaled the doors in size, walls of glistening marble, the colour of fresh fallen snow, reaching up to the heavens, curving above to meet almost beyond her view. In the center, the only thing in the room, a round table, small, not more than two feet across. It had been carved from one piece of the same marble as the walls. On it was a black vase, brimming with white roses. 

Approaching, Charlotte reached out a hand, fingertips brushing the petals. Something seemed so familiar, whatever the memory might be, constricting her heart. A voice, not her King's, echoed from somewhere in her past, ' _What did he do to you?_ '. "What did he do to me?" she whispered, hand pressing against her throat. Pulling it away, she looked at her palm, expecting to see blood, yet there was none. She drew a rose from the vase, staring at it, willing it to give the answers she sought. A thorn pierced her finger, blood welling up, the red of it almost brilliant in the monochrome of her surroundings; she was transfixed.

One drop of blood, then another, fell onto the pristine white of the marble. It seemed to her as if time froze. Her heart beat once, and then once more—it was the only sound she heard. Panic overtook reasoned thought. Crushing the rose in her hand, she whirled, knowing she had to escape this place of winter, escape the man who claimed to be her husband. A scream escaped her lips, Loki seeming to materialize from nowhere. He grasped her wrist, twisting it, the rose falling to the ground. It was if her blood had turned ice. 

As she collapsed into unconsciousness at his feet, he smiled. "I am not quite ready for you to remember, little Immortal. For a while yet, it pleases me that you remain my queen."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Nick Fury looked around the hospital room. Standish had made the place practically an arboretum crossed with an exploding gift shop. He knew Ezra felt as helpless as he did, all hopes pinned to the three men who had made it their mission to bring back an antidote. 

A gleam drew his attention. Moving closer to the table by Charlotte's bed, he reached down, picking up a snow globe that had been practically obscured by the greenery around it. Shaking it, he watched the fake snow as it fell over a forest encased in glass. Then he sighed, setting it down between a stuffed hedgehog and a dragon figurine, where she would be able to see it when she woke; Charlotte would like the snow globe. He didn't see the spark of fire from within—one that was swiftly smothered as the falling snow seemed to become a blizzard, raging across a world trapped in glass.  


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. 


	8. Chapter 8

This was getting old. Methos took a shuddering breath, his body convulsing as life rushed back. He was lying on the platform, this time restrained. Loki was next to him, on one knee, the same crystal as before in his hand. He seemed to be running it over Methos' body like some sort of scanner. The light from within was a darker purple now, nearly black. Methos wondered what it all might mean. 

"Welcome back." Loki stood, looking down at his captive. 

Exasperated, Methos gritted his teeth, tugging at the restraints. His mood was not enhanced by the amusement in Loki's eyes. "If it's all the same to you, I'd be happier sitting up." 

"Believe me when I say that you won't." Loki pressed the point of his spear against Methos' bare chest. "It really is better this way." Methos couldn't contain his scream as a bolt of energy blasted into him.  


~~~***~~~

  
This time, when he revived, he was not bound, but slumped in a chair, leaning over a table. Memories of burning, nerves being stripped, screams–his screams, assaulted him. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his arms as he tried to focus his eyes. It seemed as if the room was shifting, the walls fading, and he blinked. Trees? Snow? He blinked again, but this time, when he opened his eyes, the room was the unpleasantly familiar one of before. _Hallucinations, that can't be good._ He wondered if it was the serum of earlier, or if Loki had scrambled his brain to the point of delirium. Maybe both. 

"Once upon a time, there was a great treasure in Odin's vault," Loki's voice said softly from behind him, "the Tesseract. It was said to contain a power capable of remaking the universe itself."

Methos forced himself to pay attention. Was this finally a hint as to why Loki seemed so fascinated with Earth's Immortals? "What happened to it?" he rasped. 

"It was lost. Lost to the deepest reaches of the cosmos. Except—" Loki came round, sitting next to Methos, drawing close "—for an echo."

He peered up at his captor. There were lines of strain that hadn't been there before, and Loki's eyes held the dullness of exhaustion. Maybe the god wasn't quite as omnipotent as he'd seemed. "Wait, let me guess," Methos said, hope strengthening his voice. "The Elves made it into a Ring, to rule Middle Earth." 

Obviously, the sarcasm was lost on Loki, who seemed nonplussed by Methos' statement. "Yes, actually. But that was something else entirely."

Methos wanted to laugh, god! But it hurt too much. He settled for kneading his temples and trying to feel less like Alice. "Then what?"

"What? Why merely a power which dwells within you and all your kind. Spun from the fires of the universe, lying dormant, awaiting your embrace!" Loki's voice had risen to an almost fanatical note, reinforcing Methos' growing belief that all was not well with Loki.

Burying his head in his arms, Methos made an unintelligible sound. "That's just wonderful – I'm a Duracell."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Charlotte stood outside, wearing no cloak to ward off the bitter cold. Trees, their branches laden with snow, encircled the hunting lodge like silent guards; guards set to hold her here. _Why can I not remember?_ It was hopeless; chasing mist, trying to grasp it in her hand, and failing to, over and over again. Every day like waking to a morning that had no night before. 

A hand took her arm in a painful grip, and she couldn't quite hold back the gasp of fear that the sudden appearance of Loki had caused. She looked up at him, shying back at the rage that darkened his face, certain he would strike her. He said no word, and she held herself still as his eyes bored into hers. Then, the rage was gone, and he sighed.

"Why must you continue to defy me?" He let go of her arm, taking her hand in his. "I want only to make you well, keep you from harm."

She looked down at their entwined hands. Where before, his touch had seemed like ice in her veins, now, she felt warmth spread through her. It was like being in the summer sun, not standing in the desolation of winter. "The walls close around me, my memories, who I am, is veiled. The same winter that is all around us, freezes my very soul. Perhaps I thought to find solace here in the cold." Her voice was not much more than a whisper. 

"Can you not even bring yourself to gaze upon me?" Loki asked in a voice that held a bitter sadness. 

Shaking her head, she looked up at him. He was bowed over her, like a shield, dark locks of hair falling around his face. His eyes were tired, dim, with none of the sparkle they'd held before. She felt a stab of empathy, reaching up to brush his face, pushing his hair back behind one ear. "I am sorry."

"I would that you seek solace from me, not turn to the frozen wastes." 

Taking a steadying breath, she asked, "Did I? Before I was as I am now, would I go to you?"

Placing the hand he still held in the crook if his arm, he said, "Let me show you something."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"The Tesseract?" Barton said, sitting up straight on his bench.

They were no longer being held in the cage, their quarters being upgraded to a windowless stone room, the one Kronos had kept his monkeys and vials of the pathogen he'd created in. 

Methos shook his head sharply, a warning to Barton. The agent nodded his head in understanding, and then continued, "What is it, and why is Loki interested in it?"

"He claims it's some all-powerful artifact, lost from Asgard." Methos decided he wouldn't be revealing the rest – that Loki also thought what powered the cube was also the basis of an Immortal's power. He didn't trust SHIELD enough to give them that particular bit of knowledge. They didn't need to know that Earth's Immortals had any connection to what lay in the depths of the SHIELD base in New Mexico. "Apparently, my research into the Múspellsheimr is somehow connected – or so he claims."

Behind Barton, Duncan gave Methos a searching look, apparently not believing that Methos had told them everything. He could only hope the Highlander would keep that to himself. 

"So what? He thinks you can find it?" Duncan asked.

"I don't know, Mac. Maybe he thinks I have some memory of it, from so long ago, I wouldn't know what it was." 

"Just how old are you, Doc?" Barton asked.

"Older than dirt," Duncan replied dryly as Methos just smiled and shrugged.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


	9. Chapter 9

Loki led her to the first room she remembered waking in, the one that held the full length looking glass. "When first you saw this, you told me it was the first time you believed in magic." His fingers twined gently into her hair. "Such a simple thing, and yet, you were enchanted, saying it was as if the faerie tales of old had been made real."

Charlotte looked into the glass at their reflection, almost startled at the gentle, faraway look on Loki's face. She allowed herself to lean against him as he wrapped an arm across her waist. A smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed the top of her head, the arm around her squeezing reassuringly. 

"Perhaps you can be enchanted again" She looked up at him in question. "Look into the mirror, my queen," he commanded softly. 

Doing as he bid, she looked once more into the glass, but this time, it was not their image she saw. 

There was a blur of green, which swiftly coalesced into a vista of green trees and rushing waters, the tall grass a carpet of wildflowers that held all the colours of the rainbow. It was beautiful. In the distance was a figure on a horse. The figure grew closer, and she realized that it was her.

She didn't have to ask, as Loki answered her unspoken question. "This was what I consider our first meeting, my love. Oh, we had a passing acquaintance in years past, but I did not really know you till this moment. I had recently been made King, and had decreed that we reach out to our Midgardian brothers and sisters. You were part of a delegation, sent to treat with Asgard."

The image in the mirror drew closer. She had dismounted, whirling in place amongst the flowers, her long blue skirt billowing out around her, unaware that she was being observed, Loki having ridden into view of her. He rode closer, but her attention seemed to be fixed on the horizon, the glory of the nebula sitting low in the sky, entrancing her. She finally realized she was no longer alone, whirling, a hand on her sword hilt, to see Loki before her. With no hesitation, she sank into a deep curtsey.

The Loki in the mirror held out a hand, raising her to her feet. Then, bending down, he plucked a flower from the grass, tucking it into her hair. 

"I could not stop looking at you," he said. "Such joy, such delight in my world. It was if I saw my home for the first time through your eyes." 

"Then what happened?" she asked.

"Watch."

The mirror blurred, before revealing a new image. The two of them stood on a balcony, overlooking a golden city, arms around one another. 

"You agreed to stay as a liaison between our two worlds. I had hope that your staying was to be with me, and not for duty alone."

"And was it so?"

"It was," he whispered at her ear.

"How long?"

"More than a hundred of your Earth years." He released his hold, coming to stand next to her. "I believe it destiny that you and I came together at that time, the Nine Realms in peril, as our enemies grew ever stronger."

"I do not understand."

Loki pointed to the mirror. "That is our hope; the child…our child."

His words swirled around her as she looked. A girl, maybe four years old, was sitting in the grass under a tree, laughing in delight as a small red bird alighted upon her finger. Charlotte reached out, a pain in her heart. 

"Do not touch the mirror," his voice said from somewhere far away. "You will break the spell."

She pressed her fists against her lips, as tears welled up. How could she not remember her own daughter?

"Mother says she has our eyes and hair, but your mouth and my chin." He kissed her cheek. "I, however, believe she looks exactly like you." 

"No." Her voice cracked. Not possible. "Immortals cannot have children," she stated numbly. Charlotte knew not from where the knowledge came, or the certainty with which she knew it to be true. 

"Shhhh." He brushed a tear from her face with a fingertip. "Do not weep, Charlotte. It is true that your kind cannot have children…with one another."

She looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"A child from the union of our two peoples is rare, it is true, but such a child is a vessel for a power far beyond yours and mine; a power capable of saving the Nine Realms."

Turning once more to the mirror, she asked, "May I see her?"

"Soon, my queen; all in its time."

The child looked up, as if seeing someone, a huge smile on her lips as she ran towards them. Then, a large man, with long golden hair, scooped her up in his arms, twirling her around till she was breathless with laughter. 

"Thor is a doting uncle and her Protector till she is grown," Loki told her. 

She just nodded, unable to look away from the mirror. "What is her name?"

"She is called Verthandi."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


The heavy door to their cell groaned and squealed as it opened, revealing nothing but darkness on the other side. Looking at one another, the three men stood, cautiously approaching the opening. As they peered out, the light in the cell went out, leaving them in total blackness.

"What game are you playing at this time?" Methos muttered. A hand on his shoulder pushed him to the left. 

"Look," Barton said. "A light."

Barton was right; in the distance was a light, bobbing like a lantern. "Shall we?"

"Do we have a choice?" Duncan asked.

Methos shrugged. "We haven't had a choice since he poisoned Charlotte." 

"Let's go," Barton said, beginning to walk.

As they walked, the flagstones of the hall became a dirt path, and that path was soon covered in snow. Somewhere, somehow, they now found themselves outdoors. The light they were following blinked out, leaving them once more in total dark. No, not total, Methos realized, as his eyes began to adjust. In the sky, he could see some stars, though most were covered by cloud. Above them, trees towered, their outline black against the horizon. 

"Now what?" Duncan asked. "Wait, the light's back!"

And so it began. They'd follow the light, only for it to go out, being replaced by one further away, each one leading them deeper into the woods. At some point, it had begun to snow, and the temperature had dropped precipitously. None of them were dressed for this sort of weather, and it wouldn't be long till hypothermia set in. But the consequences for the mortal would be final if they didn't find shelter soon. 

Duncan muttered something in Gaelic, before saying in English, "We're being pixie-led."

A few days ago, Methos would have laughed at such a fanciful notion, but now, he wasn't so sure Mac was wrong.

"Pixie-led?" Barton queried through chattering teeth. He wasn't walking so much anymore as he was shuffling though the deepening snow. 

"Will-o'-the-wisp," Methos explained. 

"I'd say you were crazy, but…." Barton shrugged. 

"Yeah." Methos looked sharply at the bobbing light. "Does it seem we're actually catching up this time?" he asked, quickening his pace.

"Yes," the other two men said, using what little reserves they had left to gain on the light. 

The light flared before them, blinding in its brilliance, and from all around, they could hear the sound of giggling, like the chiming of small bells.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  


Once more, she was alone. Charlotte never knew where Loki went; only that she was certain he was not anywhere to be found in the hunting lodge. She stood in front of the mirror, trying to will it to show her something other than her own reflection. Biting her lower lip, she reached out a hand, remembering Loki telling her not to touch it. Squaring her shoulders, she defiantly placed her palm against the glass. It felt warm, comforting, and she sighed.

"What is it you wish to see?" a voice whispered at her ear. She gasped, but the warmth from the mirror soothed her fear. "Your bidding I shall obey." No, not at her ear, the voice was in her head. 

_What I have forgotten,_ she replied silently.

"As you wish."

The glass of the mirror turned icy cold, and she pulled her hand away, but now, the image there was not a reflection. Images flashed by so quickly, she could barely make one out before a dozen more had passed. The flash of a sword…a pool of blood on terracotta tiles…a ship with black sails…a veil being lifted from her face as a man with warm dark eyes smiled down at her…a grave and overwhelming grief. "Jack," she whispered. Still, the images swept by: there were children, horses, a young man whose smile flashed with gold, another man dressed in black with pale eyes who kissed her in a stable. The pictures from her past now moved so quickly that it was painful, but she did not look away. A ginger haired man with a gentle face walked with her down a line of hospital beds, a war, the sound of guns deafening. Then the mirror blurred, like looking at a pool of water.

"Do you wish to see more?" the voice asked. 

She just nodded, and the images began again. It was different this time, this time, she could see herself. She was dancing, her partner dark haired and dark eyed. This, she felt as if she could almost touch, closer, more recent. "Tony." Then the mirror flashed, and she was holding a woman in her arms, they were both weeping. _Don't give up hope, Pepper, we'll find him._ Another flash, a man dressed in black with an eye patch. _It's called the Avengers Initiative._ She needed to remember this! Now she was sitting on a bench, holding the hand of a lean, tall man. _Are you sure about this, Methos? Joining SHIELD? It seems so…."_ The man, Methos, he laughed. _So not me? I am sure, Charlotte. I think I'm needed._

Charlotte sank to her knees. "Methos," she whispered, remembering. Not just what she'd been shown, but her own memories. They cascaded over her, full of joy, grief, the face of everyone she had ever loved; all of them there before her. And now, finally, she remembered _him_. Loki. The name hissed at her, and fury welled up. There was no child, another trick; a crueler one than he could know. The image of her daughter that never was would be one forever seared into her memory. 

"I underestimated you; foolish of me," the object of her fury said from behind her. "I did not think you capable of controlling the mirror."

His hand appeared, reaching down. She took it, letting him draw her to her feet, controlling her emotions. "What is it you want of me?" she demanded, turning to face him. "Where are we?"

"What I desire, you are incapable of grasping. Yet." He pulled her sharply towards him, his grip painfully tight. "But soon, little Immortal, when I rule your pathetic realm, then my plans for you will be made apparent. As for where we are—" he smiled unpleasantly "—a dreamscape, a prison…your fate, should you defy me." 

Her face was white with rage. "Do you honestly believe I would ever do your will?"

Laughing, he shook his head. "But you have, you shall; do you think time a straight line? Foolish child; your people live in ignorance of their power, what they are capable of. But that lesson is for another time. Now—" he drew closer, his lips hovering so close, she could feel his breath upon her skin "—sleep, my queen, till I awaken you once more."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more part to go after this, an epilogue to tie up the loose ends. Well, most of them. 
> 
> If you've enjoyed the story, please let me know! I love comments and interacting with my readers. Thank you so much for reading.

Methos threw his arms over his eyes, protecting them from explosion of light. It dissipated, and slowly, he opened them, lowering his arms. He was back in the same place he'd encountered Loki when back on the Helicarrier; a realm of ice and darkness. Looking around, he realized he was alone – Barton and MacLeod were nowhere to be seen. Ahead, was a massive construct that looked like a megalithic circle carved from ice, and from somewhere in its depths, a light gleamed, its rays reflecting off the ice monoliths. He walked towards it.

Entering the circle, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. In the center of the circle was an altar, carved in one piece from black quartz, its surface sucking in the light that danced around the circle; a light seeming to have no source. But it wasn't the altar that held him temporarily paralyzed; it was the body that lay upon it. Shaking his head in denial, he approached. "It can't be," he whispered to himself. "Charlotte is on Earth, lying in a hospital room." This had to be another one of Loki's tricks. He reached out a hand, only to encounter an invisible shield.

"What are you playing at, Loki?" Methos demanded. 

His question was met by laughter. "She's quite lovely, is she not?" Loki asked from the other side of the altar. "Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony; that is how it goes, isn't it?"

 _Stupid!_ Methos berated himself for having overlooked the obvious. The poison, Loki had called it _Svefn af Snærr_ , the Snow Sleep. He'd said it was something ancient.

"The mortals of Midgard rationalize the power of their Gods through nursery tales, and stories told round the fire when the fury of winter beats at their doors," Loki said conversationally. "But you know that far better than I, don't you, Methos? Death, the Four Horsemen, the hoof beats of the Apocalypse, all stuff of ancient tales; I am but a youthful amateur compared to you." 

"This isn't a fairy tale, Loki!" He looked down at Charlotte, as still as death, her black hair fanned out over the white fur she was laying upon, clad all in white, the dress in a medieval Norse style, and a silver circlet of stylized swans upon her head. He could not feel her Immortal presence, and fought back the whispers telling him she was truly dead. 

"Is it not? Long ago, they forgot the truth, Methos. But soon, I shall remind them."

"And what of Charlotte; how does her story end?" Methos demanded. 

"Why, with a kiss from her prince, breaking the spell and returning her to life, of course. Surely you're familiar with the tale." He was now standing next to Methos. "But first, we have a task yet to complete."

~~~***~~~

Loki had motioned with his spear, and it had seemed to Methos as if space itself twisted. Then, the presence of another Immortal rang out, and as if from nowhere, Dr. Vogt appeared, standing next to Loki. 

"The end is near, Herr Doctor," Loki told him. "Now, for the final step."

The man's eyes brightened, a hungry look on his face, one Methos recognized all too well. The prize for the former HYDRA physician was to be Methos' Quickening; there was nothing else Loki could grant him. 

"I am ready," Vogt said.

Loki looked slyly at Methos, before saying, "Yes, I am sure you are." 

There was an expression of absolute shock on Vogt's face just before his decapitated head fell from his shoulders. Methos was sure there was a similar look on his face as well. Loki had used the curved blade of his spear like a sword, severing Vogt's head in one smooth motion. 

"I promised the Other I would return you, but he never specified in how many pieces," Loki practically spat at the corpse. 

The energy of Vogt's Quickening gathered over them and Loki threw his face to the heavens. "And now, the finale," he shouted over the sound of the nearing storm, holding up the spear, the blue orb set in it pulsing like a heartbeat. 

The Quickening slammed into Methos, throwing him to his knees, but he wasn't alone. Somehow, Loki was there, using the power to twine their thoughts, their very being. The Quickening seemed to be coursing through the orb and then through Loki, before entering Methos. He tried to resist Loki, but was unable to ward him off entirely. The orb pulsed stronger and stronger till it seemed as if all around them was an ocean of blue fire. 

Then it was over, and Methos struggled to his feet, Loki exultant. He didn't know what had just happened, but the possibilities both terrified and enticed him. Loki had manipulated the power of the Quickening, controlled it. Such a thing had never occurred to Methos, and now that it had…. He shook his head; thoughts for another time, when this was over and Charlotte safe from the machinations of Loki. 

Loki whirled, thrusting the spear into the sky, an energy bolt shooting into the star encrusted firmament. "It begins!" 

"No! It ends! It ends now. I've done as you asked. Release us, cure her." Methos pointed to Charlotte. "You gave me your word," he reminded Loki. 

A cheerful grin settled on Loki's lips as he came to stand next to Charlotte. "True, I did. But we are not quite done here, ancient one. You see, I've come to appreciate your company, your wisdom. There will be a place for you in my court when I rule Midgard. I will have need for men such as you in a population of mortal sheep."

Methos couldn't hold back the snort of disbelief. "Serve you? You are insane!" 

Loki only laughed softly, his eyes holding a secret. "Come now, Methos – we both know you always go with the winner." 

His breath caught in his throat; sure the choice of words was no coincidence. 

Loki pointed to Charlotte. "She knows about your past, but she has not lived it. I assume you would like to keep it that way?"

Methos swallowed. "What are you saying?"

Waving a negligent hand at the spear, he replied, "The Quickening was illuminating. The transfer of power, of knowledge, was not one sided. What I now know about you, Methos…." He quirked a brow. "Let us just say it's rather comprehensive." Placing the point of the spear against Charlotte's heart, Loki looked almost regretful. "I can remake her, ancient one. Give her your memories, let her feel, see, everything. The death, the blood, the screams of your victims, their faces as you took what you wanted from their bodies." Leaning over the altar, his eyes captured Methos'. "But I am not without compassion—promise me your allegiance when I rule, and I shall spare your lady love."

"Done." Methos didn't even hesitate. He would deal with the ramifications if and when they came. 

"A wise decision." Loki's eyes hardened. "But be warned, Methos—should you break your vow, the woman shall be forfeit. And there will be no power in the Nine Realms able to stop me from taking what is mine."

"I understand," Methos replied tonelessly, swearing to himself that Loki would never rule the Earth, no matter the price.

Loki seemed pleased. "I think you do."

"Fine, then get on with it! Give Charlotte the antidote," he demanded. "Return us to Earth."

Tapping his chin with a finger, Loki said, "Antidote? Don't you remember, Methos? The fair maid is awakened with a kiss from her prince." He pointed to himself. "And since I am the only prince here…." Leaning down, he pressed his lips against Charlotte's.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Charlotte looked down at the roaring cataract, a torrent that fell off the edge of the world. No matter how many times she came here, looking at the falls, she was both delighted and awestruck. "Surely there can be no more beautiful place than Asgard," she said softly.

"In your company, I can only believe you are correct, my love," Loki replied, putting his arm around her. 

"Truly, Loki, how can you not be enchanted by your world?" She turned to look up at him. 

Smiling, he stroked her hair. "No enchantment of Asgard can compare to you, beloved."

She shook her head, eyes twinkling. "Flatterer." 

He seemed suddenly serious, searching her eyes, and her breath caught at the intensity of his gaze. 

Loki…," she began, a feeling of unease crawling up her spine. 

"All is well," he assured her. "One day soon, we shall be together in this place. We have destiny within our reach." 

Then he kissed her, and warmth blossomed, where before she had been cold.

~~~***~~~

There were voices, beeps, and the sounds of people moving to and fro. A voice called her name, "Charlotte, can you hear me? You need to wake up now. A lot of people are counting on it." A hand squeezed hers.

Wake up? Had she been sleeping?

"Come on, Charlotte, don't do this to me. You have to wake up now." The voice again – it was very insistent. And annoying. Grimacing, she tried to pull her hand away, but the grip was unbreakable. 

Then she heard another voice, the one from her dreams. Dreams? Maybe she had been sleeping. It was very confusing. _'Wake now, my Queen.'_

"All right," she whispered, trying to remember how to open her eyes. Finally pulling them open, she quickly shut them again, the light too bright to bear. 

"Turn down the lights," the unknown voice ordered. No, not unknown….his name was there, within reach. The voice made her feel safe. 

"Nicholas?" She wasn't sure she'd said it out loud. 

Apparently, she had. "Charlotte! Yes, it's me. Can you open your eyes for me? The doctors need to check you over."

Doctors? Why would she need a doctor? That was ridiculous. But she tried to open her eyes again, for Nicholas. He sounded so concerned. Peering up at the face of her old friend, she said, "Don't need a doctor." Her voice was raspy, like she hadn't used it for a while. 

Nick brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "Humour me, okay?" The smile on his face looked drawn and tired, and she wondered what was wrong. 

Nodding, she asked, "Where's Methos?"

"He's out trying to find an antidote – for you." Before she could ask, he added, "You were poisoned, Charlotte. I know it's hard to believe, and I'll explain everything later. But for now, let the doctors look you over."

"Okay."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Methos watched impotently as Loki kissed Charlotte. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt quite this helpless, and it ticked him off. His only hope was that Loki was telling the truth, that Charlotte would awake from the hold the poison had on her. 

Then Loki straightened, a haughty expression in his face, one possessive hand lying over her heart. "'Til we meet again, ancient one."

God, he was getting tired of this! Once more, he was grasped by the gut wrenching pull of space twisting around him. But this time, when it stopped, he was finally home. The clicks of a dozen weapons sounded as he gathered his wits. 

"Late again," Clint Barton groused, a half smile tugging at his lips as he lowered his bow.

"I'm a busy guy," Methos shot back, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Turning serious, he said, "Glad to see you here. Mac." He nodded at the other Immortal, who had joined them. 

"You missed us? I'm touched, Doc." Clint was smiling outright now. 

"Hey, you're my number one patient! I'd go out of business without you!"

"Really warms my heart, how much you care."

Duncan smiled at the banter between the two men. Then he said, "It's been two days since we saw you last."

Methos raised an eyebrow. "It was only a few hours, or so it seemed."

"We got sent back here to the warehouse more than two days ago," Clint explained. "Found the cavalry already here." He pointed to the gathering of armed SHIELD agents with his chin. 

Agent Romanov joined them, and Clint grinned. "Tasha thought she'd finally got rid of me."

She just shook her head, signing off the comm she'd been speaking into, what might be termed a fond look in her eyes for her partner. "Ready to go, Doctor? There's someone back at base who's missing you." 

Methos grabbed Tasha's shoulders. "Charlotte…?"

Now there was an outright smile on her lips. "She's awake."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Charlotte stood on the deck of the Helicarrier, looking down at the ocean rushing by, breathing in the salt air. It calmed her, as it always did, the sea. "He's all right?" she asked the man next to her, for what was probably the sixth time.

"He's fine," Nick Fury assured her once more. "Promise." 

She just nodded, feeling her strength returning. Once the poison was gone, her natural healing abilities had kicked in. It had only been a few hours, but she felt almost herself; physically, at least. Mentally, she wanted to beat the hell out of someone with her sword.

"He'll be here soon."

Nodding again, she turned, sweeping her gaze over the vast expanse of the Helicarrier in front of her. "It's amazing." 

"You should see her in the air," Nick replied with a touch of smugness.

"Wait, don't tell me; I don't have the clearance to see that," she said dryly. 

Nick shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. "I have connections—I might be able to make it happen."

"Do tell, Director Fury." She punched him lightly on the arm. Then she straightened, looking for something, her face like the sun after a storm on finding it. She ran straight to him, flinging herself into his arms, not caring if it were undignified.

Holding her tight, Methos buried his face into her hair. "Charlotte," he breathed. 

Pulling back a little, she put her hands on either side of his face. "My dearest dear." A tear ran down her face. "Long I sought you in the dark."

"I will always find you, my word to you." 

Nodding, she reached up, kissing him, whispering against his lips, "My Guardian Angel."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! This last bit is a lot longer than anticipated, but that's Phil's fault - he insisted on one last scene of his own. Thank you for reading, and if you've been holding off on commenting till it's done, now's your chance :D Don't be shy! Help me deal with the 'post finish of a long story' letdown.

"We sent a team to where you say you were held in France," Fury told Methos. "But it was deserted, with no evidence that anyone had been there for a decade."

They were meeting in Charlotte and Methos' sitting room at the New Mexico ranch house. Charlotte had been desperate to go back home to the familiar, and Nick had never really been able to say 'no' to his old comrade-at-arms. So the last debriefing with the two Immortals was being held here. 

Methos shook his head. "How is that possible?"

"Dr. Selvig has a theory about folded space," Fury said. "That Loki was never actually on Earth, but was manipulating space to bring you to wherever it was he was."

Looking incredulous at Fury's explanation, Methos began to pace. "Folded space? That's what we're going with?"

"I think the term he used was 'pocket universe'." Fury shrugged. "You're our resident expert on Norse mythology. You tell me; science, magic? Does it really matter? You know the Asgardian profile, what happened not far from here." It seemed as if he were going to say more, but he looked at Charlotte, shaking his head slightly. 

She noticed. "Would you like me to leave the room, Director?" she demanded. "I'd hate to impose myself on your classified discussion!" 

Nick raised his hand. "Charlotte, you know that isn't—"

She didn't let him finish, leaping from her chair angrily. "I don't even need to be here. I was indisposed through most of it, if you'll recall!"

He didn't seem put out by her outburst, smiling a little. "Are you done?" He cocked an eyebrow inquiringly. 

Glaring at him for a moment, she shook her head, and then sighed, sinking back into her seat. "Sorry. I just…." She knew she was on edge, and that Nicholas was a convenient target for her anger and uncertainty. 

"I know," Nick said softly.

She knew that too, remembering the disastrous Spanish mission nearly seventy years prior, and its aftermath. "We've been here before, you and I." She forced a laugh. "Though last time, it wasn't aliens playing at god. On the upside, I was in a coma through most of it. Beats torture." 

Methos reached over, taking her hand, squeezing it hard, a look in his eyes she couldn't decipher. "This time, I'll be with you, every step along the way." 

Squeezing his hand in return, her expression softened. "I never had any doubt, my love."

His lips brushed the top of her head before he reseated himself. "Maybe Selvig is on to something. There was a moment, as if the walls were fading and I could see a snow covered forest. At the time, I thought I was hallucinating. Not long after, just before the end, we found ourselves in that same forest. It was endless; a place of seemingly eternal twilight and falling snow."

Fury had gone very still, looking intently at Charlotte. "What is it?"

Methos looked at Fury, then at Charlotte, not entirely certain what was happening. "Love?"

"No," she whispered. It seemed as if she weren't talking to either man, but to someone unseen. 

"Charlotte." Fury leaned in, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me," he commanded softly.

She seemed startled by his touch, looking up at him with wide dark eyes. "They were only dreams, Nicholas." She shook her head. "You told me you sat at my bedside."

"I did. But you need to tell me about those dreams now."

Pressing fingers against her temple, she shivered. "Snow, all was snow. And the wind, I can hear it still. A forest; it held me there, a prisoner. I walked so far, for so long. And then, he came, rescued me. And I was warm again."

"He?" Fury questioned. "Charlotte," he prompted gently, but insistently.

"Loki, he said he was Loki." She closed her eyes, a pained sound coming from deep in her throat. Then she gasped, doubling over, Methos and Fury grabbing her as she toppled from the chair.  


~~~***~~~

  


"Feeling better?" Methos asked, taking the empty glass from her hand.

"Uh huh." 

It had been like a dam bursting, all the memories, what she had thought were dreams, remembering all of it at once. Slowly, haltingly, she had told them what she remembered, Nicholas stopping her frequently with questions, wanting more detail on certain points, which drew more memories from her subconscious. As she spoke, what had seemed intangible bits of a dreamscape had become more real than the world around her, and it frightened her. How could she ever know what was real ever again? She felt violated and vulnerable, and she hated Loki for making her feel so. 

"It's over now," Methos told her.

"Is it?" She shook her head. _Over_ was not at all what it felt like; just the opposite. "What did he do to me?"

"We will find that out," Nick promised. 

"I know you'll try," Charlotte replied with a weak smile. And he would; she trusted Nicholas with her life. But she also knew that this was something beyond them, and that in the end, her only answers would come from _him_ …from Loki.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Charlotte stood in front of the full length mirror in their bedroom, studying her reflection. She wondered if she would ever be able to look in a mirror again without remembering that place; remembering him.

Methos came to stand behind her, and she half looked over her shoulder, seeing his silhouette in the firelight. "Verthandi," she said softly. "Does that mean something to you?" She turned back to the mirror, seeing the carefully controlled expression on his face, his eyes shuttered. "Just tell me, Methos."

"Why do you ask? You didn't mention it in the debriefing." He was stalling. 

She snorted. "As if you told Nicholas everything that happened!" She turned to face him. "Your secrets have secrets, my love." 

He flashed her a crooked smile. "Guilty."

She brushed his cheek with her fingers. "Verthandi," she pressed. 

His jaw clenched just a little, and he let out a breath. "It's a variation of Verdandi, one of the three Norns. They're the Norse goddes—"

"I know what they are." She closed her eyes. "What else?"

Methos wrapped his arms against his bare chest, dropping his head, staring at the wood plank floor. "Verdandi is the goddess of destiny."

"We have destiny within our reach," she whispered, remembering Loki's words. "The child."

Methos' head shot up. "Child?"

Taking a shuddering breath, she opened her eyes, bright with unshed tears. "My child; mine and Loki's. He showed her to me, said she was the hope of the Nine Realms, a vessel of great power once she was grown." 

"And her name was Verthandi," he said.

Nodding mutely, she turned away, walking to the French doors and pulling them open, Methos following. For a moment neither spoke, looking up into the clear New Mexico night and seeing nothing but stars. She swallowed, the realization hitting her that they may very well have been where those stars were. 

"Time is not a straight line." 

"What?"

"Something he said to me, when I told him I would never do his bidding. He said I had, I would, and did I think time a straight line. I wonder what Eric would say to that?"

"Charlotte, what exactly is it you're saying?"

"I don't know! I don’t know, Methos; what I'm thinking, feeling, none of it!"

"Whatever he may have said to you, tried to make you believe…his is a twisted reality, love."

"I know that! He's the god of lies, isn't he? And that's what it was, a lie, a manipulation, a way to try and control me." It sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. 

"Do you want it to be a lie, Charlotte?" he asked quietly, stroking her hair. 

"Yes! Of course…I love you, Methos. You know that."

Methos drew her into his arms, holding her tight. "I know you do. But that doesn't mean your love for me is any less, desiring that which we've always been told is an impossibility for Immortals, a child of your own."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Charlotte walked the quiet rooms of her home, touching the walls, caressing treasured mementos, remembering the past. It had been a week since the day she'd remembered what had happened at Loki's hands, and she was still unsettled.

She paused at the hearth in the parlour, reaching out, laying her hand on the sleek smooth wood of the mantel, fingers running along a tracery of ivy and roses, carved by her husband, Chris, a century and a half ago. A tangible reminder of the man she'd loved, taken from her far too soon. 

A knock at the front door pulled her from the past, and she wondered who it might be as she walked into the foyer, pulling open the large oak door. "Agent Coulson," she said in surprise. She noted that he was dressed more casually than she'd ever seen him, with no suit jacket, his white shirt open at the collar and no tie.

"Ma'am," he said with a slight smile. 

She held the door open, inviting him in. "I take it this isn't an official visit?" she asked, a hand sweeping up, indicating his attire. 

"Strictly personal," he told her as they walked down the hall towards the kitchen. 

"Have you had dinner?" she asked, motioning him to take a seat at the large table. 

"I have, thanks."

"A glass of wine then?" She picked up the already open bottle from the sideboard at his nod, snagging two glasses with her other hand and bringing them over to the table, sitting across from him. "So what brings you to my door, Agent…Phil?" she amended. He had said it was a personal call. 

"Thank you," he said, taking the glass she offered. "Tasha asked me to check in on you, since she's…working. Your first day alone here, after what happened, wanted to make sure you were okay."

Methos had finally gone back to work at the SHIELD complex, and Charlotte had made Ezra go back to his life after sitting at her bedside and then hovering over her here at the house after her recovery. She'd needed a few days alone before going to Manhattan to tell Tony what had happened; it wasn't something for a phone call. SHIELD hadn't informed him, of course, but Charlotte wasn't going to keep secrets from her best friend anymore. Tony would bring a whole new meaning to 'hovering' once he found out. 

She raised an eyebrow, not expecting him to be so forthrightly honest. Tasha had a soft side very few witnessed, and she and Charlotte had become good friends after the agent had finished her assignment at Stark Industries. Still, she didn't like being fussed over, however well intentioned. Several responses occurred to her, but she settled for, "That's very considerate." 

He flashed a genuine smile, having a good idea of the things she didn't say. "I like this better than the 2008," he said, jutting his chin toward the bottle on the table.

Returning the smile, she said, "I do too. If I'd realized you were a fan of my wine, I would have invited you to the winery long ago." 

"I'd like that, so would Anne."

"Anne? Oh, that's right, the cellist." She smiled at the look of consternation on his face. "You're not the only one with sources, you know! It's a date then, when I'm back in California."

"Do you think that'll be soon?"

Shrugging, she replied, "I'm planning on spending some time there next week. Matthew has his work here, and I probably won't see him for days on end anyways. I won't be missed." The last was said lightly. 

But Coulson now looked very serious. "I don't think that's true, Charlotte. I don't think you can just walk away from what happened."

She narrowed her eyes. _Presumptuous_ He held her gaze, not concerned he'd overstepped. "And why is that, Phil?" Her tone was coolly polite. 

"What happened, with Loki, it's only the first act. I know that, and so do you. His next move, I don't know what it'll be, but I do know it's going to involve you. He's gone to too much trouble, with you, and Doctor Adamson, to think this is over."

"I can see why Director Fury keeps you close. You certainly have no trouble speaking your mind, do you?" Leaning back in her chair, she considered the SHIELD agent. "What I may think, or not think, really isn't your concern," she countered. 

"I disagree."

"This doesn't surprise me," she said wryly. Then she laughed, which seemed to startle him. "You remind me a great deal of my late husband, Chris Larabee," she explained. "He was—opinionated. And he never let an opportunity to share those opinions pass him by." She and Chris had butted heads more than once over what she perceived as his high-handedness. "Do please continue." She waved a hand at him. 

"You have a unique perspective. What's coming, we're going to need that."

"You know I walked away from that life sixty years ago. I don't want to go back." She'd had this conversation with Nicholas more times than she cared to count. It seemed that Agent Coulson had taken up the cause.

"But you are back. Not officially, but in every way that matters. You started the journey the moment Stark was taken in Afghanistan. And everything that's happened since then, you've taken one step after another, back to this life. Your friends, those you love, you aren't going to let them fight alone when the storm comes."

Damn him! She wanted to object, listing all the reasons he was wrong, but she couldn't, because he wasn't. The Avengers Initiative – while it might be officially shelved, it wasn't in Nick's heart. She knew what the project meant to him. Then there was Tony – Iron Man would be involved, there was no doubt in her heart. Where her best friend was, so would she be; he would not be going into battle alone. And new friends, like Tasha and Clint. She hadn't known them long, but she thought of them as hers, a part of her extended family, remembering the recent barbeques, Clint and Methos arguing over who was the better griller, Tasha and her drinking sangria and rolling their eyes at their good-natured battle. 

Sighing, she poured them both more wine. "I won't say you're wrong, but that's all I will say for now. You're going to have to accept that."

He studied her for a moment. "Agreed."

"Well then," she said with a sharp nod. "That's settled. Now, how about some dessert? I baked an apple pie today."  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
 _Epilogue_

Charlotte hadn't been sleeping well, so instead of tossing and turning in bed, she'd decided to sit in her rocker by the fire, hoping the familiar motion would calm her. Closing her eyes, she felt the warmth of the fire on her face, the crackle of the flames almost a lullaby, as she drifted to sleep. 

_This wasn't a dream, she knew that with unshakable certainty, looking out at an alien vista of star clusters and nebulas, glowing in the velvet black of space. All around her were, she supposed she'd call them, asteroids, one of which she was standing upon. It was as if she were hanging in space, like some sort of celestial Christmas ornament. Stairs had been carved from the rock above her, twisting up into the dark. And where was Loki? She knew he had to here, somewhere._

_At her thought, he appeared at the top of the stairs, scepter in his hands, the blue glow of the orb casting his face in shadows and harsh angles. She watched silently as he came down the stairs to her. Clenching her fists, she held her ground as he stopped in front of her._

_"My Queen!" he said mockingly. "How long it has been since last we were together. Have you missed me?"_

_She ignored his question. "Why, Loki? Why such an elaborate game? For what?" she demanded._

_"Destiny, little Immortal – mine, yours, the galaxy's!" He waved an arm grandly. "And very soon, you will stand by my side on Midgard; I await only the knock upon the door."_

_"I would never willingly be at your side, Loki! You are truly mad if you think that!"_

_He loomed over her, eyes glittering dangerously. "I never said anything about willing. You will serve me, Immortal, so shall you all."_

_"Never." She looked up at him, defiant._

_The fingers that brushed her cheek were cold, but the smile on his lips was colder still. Turning a hand with a flourish, like a magician, a globe of glass appeared in his palm. "Never is a very long time, Charlotte. I can send you back here—" he nodded at the globe "—my prisoner, forever, unless you yield, swearing fealty to me as your king. Do not forget that."_

_The menace in his voice made her shiver despite herself. She looked at the glass in his hand, seeing inside of it a forest, snow falling. Then realization struck her; she'd seen this before, there had been a snow globe in her hospital room, in amongst the flowers and stuffed animals._

_"Ah, I see you remember. So many happy memories of the time we spent there together." Another twist of his hand, and it was gone. "An effective prison, you will find, but not, I think, without its charms."_

_"Do what you will, Loki. I shall never yield to you." Her voice was quiet, certain. He would not intimidate her, god or no._

_His reaction this time was not anger, but laughter. "I look forward to proving you wrong." He laid the palm of his hand against her temple. "Till we meet again," he said at her ear._

She jerked from sleep with a gasp of pain. _Till we meet again._ The words echoed around her.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
"There it is, Doc, the Tesseract," Clint Barton said to the man standing next to him on the catwalk overlooking Eric Selvig's laboratory, deep underneath the Dark Matter facility.

Methos nodded, looking down at the glowing cube, feeling uneasy. 

Barton nudged him with an elbow. "Want a closer look? Boss cleared it. Thinks you're right, that this is somehow related to your research. If you can connect the dots, it would move Phase Two along a lot faster."

"Yeah, sure," Methos answered absently, following Barton down the long flight of stairs to the lab. 

"Matthew!" Eric Selvig greeted Methos jovially. "I hear you've come to visit my girl." He looked towards where the Tesseract was housed, beaming fondly at the alien power source.

"Loki spoke of it, leading me to believe there may be a connection to my research, yes." Methos couldn't shake off the sense of unease. The closer he got to the Tesseract, the more the feeling intensified. 

"Come on then, I'll introduce you." 

Methos and Barton shared a look and a shrug as Selvig led them towards the artifact. Obviously, the man was attached. 

They stopped in front of it, Selvig explaining something, but Methos didn't hear him. What he did hear were whispers. No that wasn't it. Then it came to him; the sound of the aurora borealis. That's what it reminded him of. He wanted to ask if they heard it too, but he didn't. Finally, he caught up with that Eric was saying. 

"She has a lot to show us still. It will change the world as we know it!" 

"I believe it," he replied quietly. He stepped a little closer, looking into its depths, mesmerized. A warmth, a feeling of…affection, brushed at him. It was if the Tesseract were alive, greeting him. It felt familiar, comforting; the opposite of a Quickening, yet not. He was losing his mind. That was it. He forced himself to turn away. "Thank you, Eric, for letting me down here." 

"Any time." Eric smiled, slapping Methos on the shoulder. 

"We should go, I know you're busy." It reached for him, as he walked away, wanting him to stay, a loneliness pulling at him, almost making him turn around. He fought back the urge with everything he had. What the hell was that thing? And was he going to report what he'd felt? No, he needed time, time to decide. Time to sort out what had just happened.  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  
Loki smiled. The knock on the door had come just as he'd planned. The time had finally arrived, and now, he could open that door. And once he stepped through…then, the Earth would be his.

_End_


End file.
